My Love Betrayed

by April Lynn Kihlstrom

  As I stepped outside my room, I tried to stand a little straighter, determined not to give my feelings away. Downstairs, Charles was waiting alone, staring at a shelf of books as though fascinated, and I paused a moment before speaking. His broad, impeccably dressed back was to me and I found it hard to control my voice when I finally said, “Good evening, Charles.”

  Startled, he turned quickly to face me and, for a moment, only stared. Then his voice came dryly. “Well, your stay here seems to be doing you good already.”

  I felt as though he meant to say something more, but Greg’s voice boomed across the room just then. “Charles! Good to see you! And Ellen. You look very nice, my dear. Edna will be down in a few minutes. Can I get you a drink, Charles? Ellen?”

  “No, thank you,” Charles answered quietly.

  I also refused. Greg suggested that we go out on the patio and, relieved, we both agreed. It was dusk and lights all over the city flickered in the evening haze. “You know,” Greg said quietly, “for all our jokes to the contrary, Edna and I really love this place. If we had to go back to the States, it would he hard.” He turned to look at us and laughed, shaking his head. “Enough sentimentalism! I’ll have you thinking I’m going crazy! So. Have you made any New Year’s resolutions, Ellen?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “How about you, Charles?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. But I’d rather not say what they are. Who knows”-he grinned at us maliciously “what toes I might step on!”

  “Shall we go?” Edna’s voice broke in from the doorway. “We’re already fashionably late.”

  Obediently, we all walked out to the car. Although I understood the party wasn’t very far, it didn’t seem to occur to the Ivesons to walk.

  My first impression was that the entire American community was at the party. Our host’s house was huge, but rooms still overflowed with people, and the gardens were filled also.

  When I asked Edna about it, she shrugged. “Just about everyone is here. But don’t worry, things will ease off in an hour or so as people move on to other parties. We won’t, and by midnight there will only be about a hundred of us left to bring in the New Year.”

  Somehow, within five minutes, I found myself separated from Charles. And the Ivesons. Not that it really mattered. I would surely find them again when the crowd thinned, and meanwhile the company was fascinating. I felt safe here and, for the first time in several days, I began to relax. I moved from circle to circle of people, joining a few for a while, then moving on. Often, I found that I encountered the same people, people who seemed to have the same idea I had. One young man, in particular, kept reappearing, although he said very little to anyone.

  After a while, I started wondering if he were following me. By eleven o’clock, I was sure, and I felt both flattered and amused by my silent admirer. Finally, around eleven-thirty, he got up the courage to speak to me. It was at a moment when I found myself alone, yet surrounded by people, all chattering happily. And it was a moment when I missed Charles very much and wondered if perhaps he had been avoiding me. It seemed impossible that just by chance we had not seen each other all evening.

  Maybe, I thought, he just doesn’t care whether he sees me or not. I found both possibilities upsetting. So when the attractive young man reappeared at my elbow, looking at me with obvious approval, I felt defiantly inclined to flirt.

  “Hello,” I said with a grin that matched his.

  “Hi! I’ve been waiting all evening for a chance to talk to you alone.”

  “That sounds intriguing,” I said.

  “Have you been in Mexico City long?” he asked. “I can’t believe I wouldn’t have noticed you before if we had met.”

  “Actually, I’ve only been here a short time,” I explained. “Working vacation, sort of”

  “Oh? What do you do?”

  “I’m a computer programmer,” I said.

  He hesitated, then leaned closer. “I know,” he said confidentially, “I’m supposed to say, `You don’t look like a computer programmer!’ But I suspect you’d find it more of a compliment if I said, `Of course!’ or `How nice!”’

  I laughed. “You’re so right! And it’s refreshing to meet someone, especially a man, who understands that.”

  “You know,” he said, grinning, “I like you. Let’s find a quiet spot, and I’ll get us some champagne, and we can talk and welcome in the New Year. How does that sound?”

  “Not a bad idea,” I conceded.

  He led the way easily, almost as if he knew exactly where he was going, instead of wandering at random, looking for an empty room. At any rate, he found one. “Are you sure our host won’t mind?” I asked skeptically. “This looks like someone’s private study.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I saw our host a little while ago, and he’s in no condition to mind anything. Wait here. I’ll get us some champagne.”

  As the door closed behind my new friend, I wondered exactly what he had in mind. Ply me with drink, then make a play for me? I’d hardly be that cooperative. A friendly wrestling match? If so, he was in for a surprise. My father had taught me several standard holds and how to break them. I was quite sure I could take care of myself. After the danger of the past few days, it would be a relief to only have to worry about an overamorous admirer.

  I’d hardly finished the thought when the door opened. It was Charles, and he stood for a moment, just staring at me. Then he said, “Ellen? Are you all right? You looked a little flushed and, when I saw you come in here, I wondered if you were feeling ill.”

  “I, uh, I’m fine,” I said nervously. “It was just rather hot and crowded out there.”

  Charles nodded, then came in, closing the door behind him. As I watched, he came over and sat down next to me. “Ellen” - his voice sounded very odd to me “I’ve been meaning to give you this all evening, but I haven’t had a chance. You’ve been surrounded by people.” (So he had known where I was had cared.) He was placing a package in my hands, saying, “A New Year’s present. I thought you might like it.”

  Even as my hands automatically unwrapped the gift, I felt a chill, almost as if I knew what I would find. I looked down at the box as I fumbled it open. And suddenly felt dizzy. It was… it was a sapphire bracelet. I felt an intense sense of deja vu. Of course. The scene with Rick and the sapphire earrings flashed through my head.

  Charles’s voice broke into my thoughts, anx ious. “Ellen? Is something wrong? Don’t you like it?”

  “The earrings,” I said dazedly, wondering if he would understand what I meant.

  He did. “Damn the earrings!” he swore. “I bought the bracelet because I wanted to give you something I thought you might like. And you did seem to like sapphires.” Then, with some exasperation, he said, “I’ve never known a woman to be angry about a gift before!”

  I was on my feet then, heading for the door, calling over my shoulder, “Maybe you’ve known the wrong women!”

  But before I reached the door, it opened and my friend of the evening, carrying champagne and glasses, looked at us with obvious surprise. “What…?”

  Charles was the first to recover. He moved past me and, placing a hand on the fellow’s chest, pushed my friend out the door and closed it, saying, “Sorry. This is a private discussion.”

  When the door was closed, I said quietly, “We have nothing more to say.”

  Charles stared at me, his mouth set in a grim line, his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the door. “I take it you were expecting him?”

  “And if I was?” I demanded. “What business is it of yours?”

  “None,” he admitted frankly, “and you’re perfectly welcome to go find him after we’ve finished our discussion.”

  I turned my back on Charles and stooped to pick up the bracelet from where I had dropped it. Carefully, I placed it back in the box. As I handed it back to him, Charles said acidly, “I see. You’ll keep Rick’s earrings but not my bracelet. You’ve got very strange n
otions of honor!”

  Too angry to deny it, I said, “I have nothing further to discuss with you, Mr. Whitford.”

  “No?” he said evenly. “That’s odd, because I have a great deal to say to you.”

  “Please!” I said. “I don’t want to hear it! Just let me leave!”

  “No.”

  We glared at each other. Then Charles took a step forward, reaching for my arm. I started to move to the side and froze as the door opened again. Charles had hold of my arm by the time Edna’s cool voice reached us. “Really, you two! If you must argue, don’t do it here. Your voices carry quite well, you know.”

  Charles straightened, dropping my arm. “Yes, you’re quite right, Mrs. Iveson. This isn’t the place for it.” He looked at both of us, then said, “If you will excuse me.”

  We both nodded, and Edna moved out of his way. As soon as he was gone, Edna said, “You look as if you need to cool off, Ellen. Shall I disappear?”

  I smiled a bit grimly. “If you don’t mind.”

  She smiled, nodded, and left. As the door closed behind her, I felt myself growing unreasonably angry. At Charles, for retreating so easily. At Edna, for interrupting. Never mind that I had said I didn’t want to talk to Charles. Now that he was gone, I found that I did. I paced, trying to shake off the feeling that Charles was treating me the way Rick had.

  A few minutes later, the door opened again. It was my friend with the champagne bottle and glasses. He paused in the doorway, saying hesitantly, “Can I come in?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but came in and shut the door. His voice was full of concern as he said, “You look upset! Who was that before? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  Feeling unable to explain, I said, “Someone I work for.”

  “Ohhh!” He nodded wisely. “The old boss-afterthe-pretty-secretary bit, right?”

  “Except that I’m a computer programmer,” I reminded him, rather grimly.

  He laughed. “Hey, I know. I’m the guy who understands, remember?”

  I nodded, suddenly feeling a little better. “That’s right.” I paused. Then, as he handed me a glass, I said, “You know, I don’t even know your name. Mine’s Ellen. Ellen Steffee.”

  Time must have been playing tricks on me, because I could have sworn it was several seconds before he said, “Didn’t I tell you? I’m Ralph. Ralph Carden. With an e, not an i. Unlike the French designer. Although,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “I have been known to have designs.”

  I laughed and teased him, “Really? What kind of designs?”

  He only shrugged and laughed. “C’mon, let’s open the wine. I guarantee you’ll like it!”

  Actually, the bottle was already open and, I assumed, Ralph must have gotten it from one of the many waiters around. I carefully chose a seat on the other side of the table from Ralph as he poured out two glasses.

  Handing me one, he said, “It’s almost midnight. A toast. To us. And to interesting designs?” he added, with a smile.

  I shook my head. “To the New Year.”

  Ralph hesitated, then shrugged. “To the New Year.”

  He downed half his glass in that first toast, then looked at me expectantly. For some reason, I was irritated. I didn’t want to waste my time flirting with this young man, no matter how attractive and how nice he seemed. I was sure he had only one thing on his mind, and I just wasn’t interested. I emptied my glass quickly and set it down.

  Ralph immediately refilled it. His hand rested over the top, for a moment, before he handed it back to me. I shook my head. “Why not?” he asked sharply.

  In that moment, I knew Ralph took this game seriously, too seriously. And I knew that I might have trouble getting out of the room. But I had to and fast. I smiled at Ralph, “Why not indeed?”

  He relaxed as I took the glass but still sat forward in his chair. I smiled again and drank deeply. “It’s marvelous, Ralph. Just the thing to go with, um, creative designs.”

  He really relaxed then. I drank some more, since he seemed to expect it, then said softly, “I do think, though, that you’ll have to excuse me. Just for a few minutes?”

  My voice was persuasive and he said, “Of course.”

  Slowly, lazily, I walked to the door. Ralph held it open for me, then closed it behind me.

  My timing was remarkable. Before I had gone three feet, midnight struck. Two men tried to kiss me. As I dodged the second one, Edna touched my arm. “Ellen! Are you all right, dear?”

  “Yes. No. I’m not sure,” I said, amazed to find that it was true.

  “Oh, dear. If I could find Greg…But I’m not quite sure…”

  “Please,” I said quickly, “I don’t want to cause trouble. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I just get a little air.”

  She looked a little relieved and then someone claimed her attention. So I slipped away. I was still too close to the study, and I didn’t want Ralph to find me. So I went outside. I felt a little better there. It was a beautiful, clear night, and I didn’t mind the chill. I took a few steps down the drive, past a couple of cars, feeling safer here than inside, where Ralph, by now, must be looking for me.

  It didn’t occur to me to be afraid until a man stepped out of the shadows. I turned, ready to run for the house, when the light hit his face, and I realized it was Charles. He just stood and stared at me and the memory of everything that had happened suddenly seemed overwhelming. My face must have gone pale at that moment, as I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

  Charles seemed to jump forward and grab my arm. “Ellen! Are you all right?”

  All right, except for feeling like a fool, I wanted to say. But I only lied. “Yes, of course I’m all right. You just startled me.”

  “What are you doing out here? Alone?” he demanded.

  I must have been crazy, because I said, “Walking back to the Ivesons’.”

  From the way Charles looked at me, I knew he thought I was out of my mind. “And the Ivesons?” he asked, incredulous. “I suppose you’re going to tell me they approve?”

  “I didn’t tell them.”

  Charles swore under his breath, then irrationally demanded, “Where’s your friend?”

  I didn’t misunderstand, but I didn’t answer, either. I was too busy trying to keep from being sick. “You’re drunk!” he said in disgust.

  “No!” I protested. “I only had two glasses of wine the whole evening.”

  “Then I suggest,” he retorted unsympathetically, “that you give up wine altogether!”

  Since I was rapidly reaching the same conclusion myself, I didn’t bother to answer. The next moment, I was sick. Charles helped hold my hair back, then offered me his handkerchief to wipe my face. “I’m sorry,” I found myself saying, rather incoherently, “I just feel so tired. It must have been the champagne. I’m just so tired.”

  Charles started shaking me. “Ellen! You’ve got to stay awake, Ellen. C’mon, we’ll walk back to the Ivesons’ house.”

  I was too tired to care or understand why Charles had suddenly changed his mind. I started walking. As we walked, he demanded, “Who was with you when you drank the wine? Could anyone have drugged it?”

  For a moment, that shocked me sober. Then I was dizzy again. “The designer,” I said foolishly. “Ralph.”

  Charles started to ask me something but stopped as a car pulled up alongside us. “It’s your friend,” Charles said softly to me. “Is that Ralph?”

  I looked up in horror. It was. “There you are!” he greeted me happily. “I couldn’t imagine where you’d gotten to!” To Charles, he said, “She must have forgotten I said I’d take her home. But then, five glasses of the bubbly stuff will do that to you.” He winked at Charles. “Can I give you a lift, too?”

  Charles glanced at my face, then said shortly, “Thanks, but we’re walking.”

  “Hey, let her answer for herself!” Ralph protested.

  I leaned closer to Charles and tried to sound adamant. “We’re walking.”

  For a
moment, Ralph looked furious. Then he lashed out at me, “That’s right. He’s the one with the money, isn’t he!”

  Before I could answer, Ralph’s car shot forward and away. Charles’s face beside me was set and grim. “Charles, that’s not-”

  “Forget it!” His voice was angry, and the lines on his face deepened. And he didn’t ask any more questions.

  After what seemed forever, we reached the Ivesons’ house only to find it locked up. Charles insisted we wait on the patio together for their return. In spite of the cold, and the hardness of the chairs, I laid my head on the patio table and fell asleep.

  Consciousness. A hammering in my head. All-pervading noise. Nausea. Dryness in my mouth. Slowly, I opened my eyes. And winced. I’d never had a hangover before, but somehow I knew this qualified as one. I closed my eyes again and tried to think. Just how much had I had to drink last night? I couldn’t remember. The whole evening was a haze. Especially the last half of it. I had only the vaguest memory of Edna putting me to bed. At least I hoped it had been Edna!

  It was useless. I simply couldn’t remember what had happened. Maybe coffee would help. Carefully, I sat up. Not carefully enough, it seemed, because the whole room rocked around me. Then it settled back in place, and the noises I heard began to resolve themselves. A maid was cleaning the room next to mine, and the light came from curtains hastily, inadequately, drawn the night before. The time was late morning. Probably too late for breakfast, I thought sourly. Which was perhaps just as well, considering the state of my stomach. But I still had to face the Ivesons; I could imagine what they must be thinking!

  Somehow, I eventually made it to the patio. Edna was there alone. I needn’t have worried. She took one look at my face, smiled sympathetically, and rang for the maid. I listened, dazed, as she ordered coffee, juice, and toast for me. Anticipating my protest, Edna said, “It really will make you feel better, you know.”

  She was tactfully quiet while I forced myself to eat. It did help. When all but the coffee had been cleared away, I tried an apology. “I’m very sorry about this, Edna. I”